Going Rogue

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Going to Australia on one of our Group Flights meant Emily could arrive Down Under with a group of mates and nothing to worry about but having the adventure of a lifetime. Have a read about how her Aussie adventure is going so far.

So, I'm in Australia. I'm on a bus in Australia. I'm on my way to a course that sounds like a slow and painful death to help me get a job in Australia.

And suddenly, it all feels very normal.

19 years old and living by myself in a foreign country millions of miles from home. I don't know the exact distance but apparently to get any further away from home I'd have to go to New Zealand... Or the moon... (I would google it but my cellullar technology has regressed to an unbranded Nokia-style brick I picked up for around £7. Regrettably, it does not have snake.) The feeling of moving from a tiny town near a small city, to a bubbling and diverse metropolis, is almost inexpressible. "Stop press! There are people on the streets after 9 o'clock! What's that you say? It's totally normal and there are interesting things to do and see in the night time, other than getting hopelessly wasted at the nearest quarry and stumbling home a few hours later full of alcopops and regret? Oh boy!" ...I'm sure you get the picture.

The freedom I've experienced seems limitless. With minimal responsibilities, I can do what I want, when I want, for how long I want. Recently, that has involved thoroughly testing the boundaries of this autonomy by spending day after day in the museums and book shops of Sydney's leafy suburbs. After spending a large percentage of the first 2 weeks drinking and exploring tourist attractions in a big group, it has been a welcome week of wandering aimlessly and coffee drinking.

It's both reassuring and scary how easy it is to make ties with new people and foreign places. The reassurance is obvious - possessing the ability to make conversation (meaningful or otherwise) with complete randoms in invaluable, especially when you're travelling by yourself. Being on a Group Flight of 30-something other young travellers was excellent. It took the edge off the pressure to make friends and contacts immediately, without the group flight I would never have come out here alone. Getting hopelessly lost in the middle of Hong Kong, watching the sunset on the last evening of surf camp, attempting to order food in a language you can't speak or read, getting hopelessly gooned on gross box wine and dancing in the cheapest (worst) nightclubs in Sydney would never be as good by yourself (and actually just a little bit lame).

The downside of depending on a group of new backpacking friends for most social interaction has now become startlingly apparent. And so comes the scary half of familiarity. The group splits, each person has their own agenda - short term or otherwise. Once again, you find yourself plunged into another foreign environment with strangers, so you start again. And obviously, there's the occasional "what the hell am I doing here? I should be tucked up in my own bed in quaint Ledbury" wobble. Although, this is instantly cured by the feeling of the sun's warmth on my skin and smirking about those at uni, those in Ledbury and those not in the sun. I'm bloody lucky.

For me, there is little to no plan. I want to do a long list of things but the vital bits of conjoining travel are in disarray in my brain. My internal monologue is largely made up of telling myself to sort my self out and get organised, followed by the retort (still to myself) that there are too many coffee shops, museums and art galleries left to see in Sydney to worry about anything than the immediate future. It's thrilling, I'm possibly going insane and thus far it's been grand.

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